Hooded Man (95 page)

“Not yet. But stuff’s been arriving all the time I’ve been here. Weapons, vehicles, most of it kept in Cardiff Arms Park. I think he might be involved in supplying it. Over.”

Jack rubbed his chin. That would make sense; first Tanek allied himself with De Falaise, then the Tsar, now the Dragon. Anyone he thought might be able to seize power.
But there must be a third party involved if that pond scum’s the go-between
, he reasoned.

“Listen, Dale, I want you to get out of there. You’ve done all you can, now I want you to report back to –”

“What’s that? You’re breaking up.”

“I said get your ass out of there, Dale, and that’s an order!” The radio died. Whether it was just a loss of signal, someone had found Dale, or he’d just run out of time, Jack had no way of knowing. But it made him more aware than ever that if something happened to the youth it would be on his head. Jack slammed his fist against the wall, swearing. When one of the Rangers came in, he barked at them that he wanted to be left alone.

After a few minutes, he nodded to himself, then muttered, “Okay, so you’re not coming out. Maybe it’s about time we came in.”

D
ALE CLICKED THE
radio off. He’d heard Jack’s orders, but there was no way he was going to pull out just yet.

“Green Three...” Sian said. “You’re a Ranger, aren’t you? One of Robin Hood’s men?”

Back before the virus that would have sounded so stupid, but Sian said it with complete seriousness. Robert’s reputation, and that of his Rangers, had spread far. No-one was laughing, least of all his enemies. Dale shrugged, then nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed; what was wrong with him? He wasn’t usually shy about blowing his own trumpet. But with Sian it was different. He wasn’t out to impress.

“God, why didn’t you say something?”

“Didn’t really seem the time or place.”

The radio operator moaned. There wasn’t much danger of him waking up yet, but it was time they made themselves scarce.

“I think we’d probably better get out of here.” Dale said.

Sian nodded, but touched his arm as he made to leave. “Why did you do that just then?”

“What?”

“Cut off... what was his name, Jack? Cut him off when he was ordering you to get out of here.”

Once more, Dale felt the blood rushing to his cheeks. He looked down as he answered. “Because I didn’t want to leave you here. And you won’t leave until you’ve found your aunty... So...”

Sian looked at him, then, suddenly, kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Dale.”

He shrugged a final time, feeling as though his cheeks were on fire. Then, as much to hide this as anything else, he nodded towards the door, gesturing for them both to leave.

There was still much to do before either of them could get out of this madhouse.

CHAPTER NINE

T
HE CAPTIVE’S HEAD
rocked with the sheer force of the blow.

“Come on, talk, damn you!” Gwen brought her hand back and hit the man again, almost tipping over the chair he was tied to.

The prisoner – his features pinched, hair closely cropped – spat blood and grinned, teeth stained crimson. Gwen punched him in the side, where her bullet had winged him, and Dr Jeffreys gave a wail of protest.

“You’ll pull out the stitches!”

Gwen took no notice, striking the man again. He gritted his teeth, bubbles of red saliva bursting as they escaped his lips.

“I said
talk!
” she screamed into his face. “Who sent you? Who do you work for?”

The man smirked again, even laughed.

Gwen brought her hand back once more, but felt someone grab it. She turned to find Andy holding her wrist. “Take it easy, Gwen. The guy’s obviously not going to play ball.”

She looked at Andy, then back at their prisoner. Play ball? This wasn’t a game. Gwen pulled her arm away. After all they’d risked to get this dickhead here, she wasn’t about to ask nicely. The guy had been shooting at them, for Christ’s sake. He’d put her son at risk, why did he deserve any kind of compassion?

The answer was, he didn’t. She smacked him again, perhaps just to spite Andy. He might be okay with waiting for New Hope to be overrun by armed men, but she wasn’t going to just sit here and let it happen.

Andy had been against going out there to fetch the prisoner in the first place. “You’re joking,” he’d said when he heard Gwen’s plan. “You’re going to get yourself killed.
Then
what’ll happen to little Clive?”

It hadn’t been the smartest thing he’d ever said. Clive Jr was the reason for
everything
she did. It was precisely because of him she’d risk venturing out to get the fallen gunman, even with more of his friends still in the woods. “It’s almost dark. If we use the warren –”

“What if those nuts have night-vision or whatever? Have you thought of that? Hell, I can’t be a part of this madness,” Andy had said, holding up his hands and walking off.

“Okay,” Gwen had said after him. Thankfully, there had been others willing to go with her. Darryl for instance, who they had to thank for the warren in the first place. When designing the wall, he’d had the foresight to include a back door in case of just such an emergency. The warren was exactly what it sounded like, an underground tunnel leading from the back of New Hope up and out into the woods, the exit covered over with foliage and bracken. If Graham had been fit enough, he’d have volunteered as well, if only to pay back the sods who’d shot him, but he was nowhere near. In fact, Jeffreys had reported earlier that his situation was deteriorating, in spite of the drugs they were giving him.

“All the more reason to go and fetch one of them, bring him inside,” Gwen told the doctor.

So, she and Darryl had climbed into the warren and made their way up and out into the woods. Rifles primed, they’d crawled along on their bellies as silently as they could to where Gwen guessed the man had fallen. She’d posted a watch on him, and not one of his friends had come to get him or see how he was. Loyalty obviously wasn’t part of their agenda.

Just when they thought they weren’t going to find him, Gwen spotted a boot in the undergrowth and tugged on Darryl’s arm. He nodded, following her. Jeffreys had given Gwen a tranquiliser to subdue the guy, but as it turned out he’d lost so much blood that he barely put up a fight. As they started dragging him away, however, bullets splintered the trees surrounding them. The fuckers had been using him as bait. “Quick, move!” Gwen ordered; they didn’t have time for messing about. She and Darryl hauled the man back, and it was only now he started to cry out, risking giving away their location. Gwen put her hand over his mouth as they pulled him along, racing towards the hole in the ground. They reached it ahead of their pursuers and scrambled back down inside the warren, yanking the trapdoor shut and locking it from inside. They heard boots, but the shooters trampled overhead, running past, oblivious to what was hidden under their feet.

Darryl emerged first at New Hope, greeted by the sight of Karen Shipley pointing a pistol at him. As instructed, she’d been keeping it trained on the open black square since they’d entered, just in case they had any unwanted visitors. When she saw Darryl poke his head through, she let out a whoop of joy, hugging and kissing him on the cheek, much to his surprise.

“Oh, thank God!”

Yes, she’d been pleased to see the man she was clearly sweet on. But Karen had also never shot anyone before. Gwen knew the woman might have to if things carried on the way they were going, but felt only a small twinge of sadness about the loss of her innocence. After all, Gwen’s had been snatched away a long time ago.

They’d taken the prisoner to Jeffreys, who’d patched up the wound and given the man a transfusion. At first no-one had volunteered, but when the doctor pointed out he’d die without one and they’d get nothing from him at all, Darryl once again stepped into the breach. Who’d have thought she’d come to rely on him so much?
He
was the very essence of lost innocence, yet Gwen couldn’t have done all this without him. “Hook me up, doc,” Darryl had said. “Least we know we’re the same group.”

Unbelievably, that had been four hours ago, and as the prisoner had recovered steadily, Gwen sat studying him. When she judged he was fit enough to be questioned, she’d taken him at gunpoint – virtually carrying him to the Red Lion – ignoring all of Jeffreys’ and Andy’s complaints. She was still ignoring them.

“What’s happened to you, Gwen?” Andy asked after the last blow.

She gaped at him. “Do I really have to answer that?”

“You’re killing him.”

“Hopefully not until we get what we want.”

“This isn’t the way to treat
anyone
. He’s still a human being.”

“A human being who’s been shooting at our home, Andy. Who wants us dead. Those were your words, not mine. Weren’t you the one who greeted me with a rifle when I came back here with Tate? Why was that exactly? Because you thought men like Javier had returned, right?”

Andy said nothing.

“Well,
he’s
a man like Javier, like De Falaise. His lot don’t understand kindness, Andy. All they understand is this.” She held up a fist in front of his face. “And this!” She grabbed her pistol and waved it under his nose. “They see anything else as weakness, do you understand?”

“Oh, I think I’m starting to. Have you ever thought that maybe by doing all this, we attract men like him?”

“You’ve got it backwards. All we wanted to do here was live in peace and then... Everything changed.”

Andy was silent for a moment: “This isn’t what Clive would’ve wanted. He would’ve –”

Gwen struck Andy with the same hand she’d been using to hit the prisoner. And with just as much force. She hadn’t meant to do that. It was the mention of her dead lover’s name that provoked her. How
dare
Andy tell her what Clive would or wouldn’t have wanted? Clive was dead, and they would be too if they listened to Andy.

He stepped back, his fingers touching the cheek she’d slapped, which was reddening nicely. Andy said nothing more, just glared at her before storming out of the pub. Gwen looked at the others present – at Jeffreys, at Karen – waiting for them to say something. They didn’t, and she knew why. They were scared of her. And were probably right to be.

She turned back to the prisoner. Could she see the faintest glimmer of fear in his eyes? Gwen bent and whispered in his ear: “One way or another, you’re talking to me.” She raised the pistol, pressing it against his head. “You just have to decide how you want to do this.”

“All right,” said the man. Gwen was a bit shocked to hear his voice. He had a distinct German accent.
So
, she thought,
at last I know
something
about you. About the people out there.
“I will tell you this. The men out there
will
find a way into your little village, one way or the other.” He laughed. “It is for you to decide how
you
want to do this.”

Gwen struck him on the cheek with the butt of the pistol. “Who are you people, what do you want?”

He spat out more blood and a tooth, which landed on the carpet not far from her feet. Gwen waited for the answer to her query. “That is very simple. We want your son.” He smiled again, a chilling sight. It was Gwen who felt a rush of fear now.

“And I can assure you, we are
not
going to leave without him.”

CHAPTER TEN

S
HE KNEW THE
Rangers were being interrogated, and tortured; Mary could hear the screams throughout the building, throughout the vaults. What she didn’t know was whether one of them was Robert.

Another scream, and Mary – shut away in one of the cells of the French prisons – curled up on the hard wooden bed, putting her fists to her ears. The thought of Robert undergoing such a horrible ordeal at the hands of someone like Tanek was too much to bear. A mental image of her husband on the rack flashed through her mind; his limbs stretched, the veins at his neck standing proud.

“No! Stop this! Stop it!”